This Joke Will Kill You
by silver ruffian
Summary: Meg: “That thing in Gotham? That was Dean’s coming out party, so to speak. He made Alastair proud.” This is an SPN/Dark Knight crossover. One shot AU
1. Meg

_**A/N:**_ I have no idea exactly where this particular plot bunny came from, but I'm glad to unleash it on an unsuspecting world.

_**Summary:**_ Meg: "That thing in Gotham? That was Dean's coming out party, so to speak. He made Alastair proud." This is an SPN/Dark Knight crossover. One shot AU

**_POV:_** Azazel's daughter (Meg)

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own Supernatural or The Dark Knight. This is all in fun, not for profit, and no disrespect is intended.

* * *

Wasn't my idea to send big brother back topside, Sammy boy. That was Alastair's doing. If I'd had my way ol Deano would have been a bloody, screaming chew toy for Lillith's hellhounds for all eternity, but I didn't have much say in the matter.

That thing in Gotham? That was Dean's coming out party, so to speak.

He made Alastair proud.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, to see you suffer, for one. I wanna see the look on your face when you realize how far gone your precious big brother is. For another, I'm dead anyway, right? I've heard about you and your exorcisms, little boy king, so I may as well have my fun before I go. I'd rather die than kiss your tainted ass. So be it.

Anyway, don't blame Dean for the turn he's taken. You sons of light can swing big-time either way. Everybody knows that. _You_ got dark. I can see it all around you, thanks to that bitch Ruby. Liked you both better before, you know? You changed.

Better watch your back, Samuel. Bitch ain't what she seems.

Remember the good times we had? You and me and Steve Wandell? Oh, hit a nerve, did I? All right, damn it, I know I'm rambling. You wanna hear about Dean? Okay.

Your boy held out for thirty years. Can you imagine that? Thirty years on the rack. Thirty years of being torn apart, fucked in every way imaginable, and it was all for you, Sammy, day in and day out.

There, see? That's what I was looking for. That hurt look in your eyes.

Go ahead. Do it. You kill me now and you'll never find out what happened to Dean down in Hell. I fucked up and I'm willing to pay for it. I'm the only source of information you've got. I see your little bitch knows it too.

You gonna let me finish? Good.

Ol Allie asked Dean the question each and every day: "We'll let you climb off the rack if you start torturing the damned. How about it, Dean?"

It was a pretty sweet deal.

Every day Dean told Alastair what he could do with his deal. I gotta admit, even I was impressed. Everybody thinks Dean's the dumb one, but most of the curses he flung in Allie's face showed a lot of imagination. Very, _very _creative. Kid has a flair with words.

We had a betting pool going.

Nobody won. Nobody had thirty.

One year after he started torturing damned souls on the rack, Deano began to change his technique.

According to Dean, all they needed was some laughter in their life. Big smiles.

I mean _really big smiles_.

He thought it was a good idea, so he used his knives on himself first. That showed real craftsmanship. Commitment, you know? Dean perfected his technique, used knives and paint on the souls who were assigned to him.

Well, that's what I heard, anyway. I wasn't there at the very beginning. Hell's not my favorite place, y'see. It's a prison of fear and blood and bone. Nice place to visit…well, scratch_ that_. I don't even want to visit. Why do you think I hated Dean for sending me back there in the first place?

I saw a few of those souls after Dean got through with them, later. They were works of art.

Angels carved in bleached bone and black, blue and golden paint. Trees carved in flesh, and Dean painted every single leaf himself.

Heard that he really hit his stride when he started carving clowns.

Did 'em as a tribute to _you_, Sam.

I knew I was looking at pure genius in the making. Van Gogh and Michaelangelo have nothing on Dean. I should know. I tempted and tormented them both.

Deanie likes to paint _and_ sculpt. Who knew?

If I ever see your Dad, I'm gonna thank him for helping to make Dean what he is today. Kid's a genius with knives, and all those Marine lectures your Dad gave you two, well, I gotta say, we couldn't have done a better job ourselves.

After Allie let Dean loose topside I showed up at Dean's place one day wearing this little girl. She was playing in her backyard as I passed overhead, and I figured, what the hell. Why not? She was a little small, not exactly a perfect fit, but I figured I she wouldn't last long anyway.

I figured right.

Rumor was that big brother was faking it. The scars, the paint, the insanity, just to get topside again.

I just took it into my head to test that theory, okay?

Like I said before, Sammy, Dean's had a bad rap all his life. People looked at that pretty face of his and figured there just couldn't be a brain inside. No smarts.

He was holed up in this abandoned warehouse about fifty miles outside Gotham, and he'd already attracted some followers. One of them was this little blonde chippie. Harley, I think her name was. She swooned over him, Sammy. I mean _swooned_. It made even me sick, and I'm a depraved demon bitch.

Harley reminds me of your mother, Mary.

Yep. Dear old Mom.

There were about eight others, your garden variety thugs and goons.

I froze everyone but Dean when I walked in the place.

He didn't seem surprised.

_I was_.

I mean, _damn._

He grew his hair out, down to his shoulders. Put some sort of transparent green tint on it. Yeah, you heard right. I said _green_.

When I saw him he'd painted his face white. That scarring around those full lips of his almost reached all the way to his ears on either side, then curved upwards into this neat little grin. Or smirk. It was striking, I gotta tell ya, especially with that red lipstick or paint or whatever the hell that color was he put on his mouth. That black around his eyes really brought out his eye color. He's still got the most beautiful green eyes. Before they almost glowed with all that pain he carried inside.

He's got a different light inside him now.

Never thought of Dean as a snappy dresser. That stuff he used to wear while he was hunting? All that denim and leather? Well, Samuel, your boy has definitely growed up. You've heard the rumors. I know you have. You wouldn't have kept me alive this long if you didn't want confirmation.

So here it is: Dean's wearing royal purple now. A long waistcoat with a vent in the back. Matching pants and even purple leather gloves. That green vest matches his eyes. Blue shirt, brown and gold tie. That's it for the fashion report, Sammy boy. What do I look like, Queer Eye for the Eternally Damned Guy?

Being around Dean just wasn't the same after that. He was no fun to play with. Not anymore. I came around a few more times after that, just to see what he was up to. I could tell he knew who I was, no matter what body I clothed myself in, but there was a disconnect there. I could see it in his eyes.

"So how they hanging these days, big guy?" I told him that day.

He ignored me. He was sitting at a table covered in all this lab glassware, mixing chemicals up. Dean sang to himself, something about letting a smile be your umbrella. Bouncy little number.

He's got a really nice singing voice. He can carry a tune really well. I could hear him clearly over the muffled crying and groans of the hostages. He never missed a beat, and he knew all the words.

Dean got up, walked over to this family of four (Mom, Dad, and two brats) he had trussed up in these chairs, and poured the chemicals all over them.

Then he just stood there and watched.

Took them about fifteen minutes to die. Their skin turned grey, and their eyes rolled up into their heads, but they didn't smile.

They didn't even chuckle.

That pissed Dean off.

He came stomping back to the table, looking kind of dejected, with both hands jammed into his pockets. "Tough crowd. It's really hard to make people laugh nowadays, you know? Everybody's so fucking serious it really makes my damn head hurt."

He sat down and started mixing chemicals again as his goons disposed of the bodies.

Well,_ hell_. I was convinced. Kid was the real deal. And then some.

By this time that Harley chick came over and started fawning over him.

"Oh, Mr. J, you're so tense. Let me help you with that. Ooh, your muscles are so tight..."

Disgusting.

He scowled as he batted Harley's hands away from his face and shoulders. She was all over him like a cheap suit. If we were lucky maybe she'd be the next test subject.

I figured I didn't have anything to lose. I'd just about worn out my welcome anyway, and I knew it. "Hey, Dean, you ever tell your fan club where you got your skills from?"

Dean snorted. "Tell them I spent all those years down in hell? What d'ya think I am, _crazy_?"

Lillith let two of her hellhounds follow Dean up. As I understand it, he'd taken quite a shine to them both while he was down below. They looked like oversized hyenas now, lolling around, obviously disappointed that Dean wouldn't let them eat what was left of Joe Six-Pack and his brood.

"Sammy?" Dean cooed, and the bigger hellhound perked his ears up. "Lunchtime, Sammy."

Dean jerked his thumb at me. "You too, John boy." The slightly smaller hound licked his lips.

They both got up and walked over, laughing their asses off.

Dean smiled, wide and cheerful, and I knew it was time to go.

Like I said, I knew that little girl wouldn't last. She was barely a good mouthful.

_**00000**_

Yeah, I know. My time's up. Wish I could be here to see it when you catch up with Dean. See big brother face to face.

I love family reunions.

Just follow the trail of death and smiles, Sammy boy. Dean's not very subtle these days. Way I hear it, cops are after him, and that masked nutcase from Gotham is on the prowl for him too. Man goes around dressed as a flying rodent. If that's not crazy, I don't know what is.

Hope all you lunatics enjoy each other.

You never did approve of Dean's humor when he was "normal" did you, Sam? Too low brow. Too…gutter. Never laughed at any of his imitations either.

I kinda doubt you'd be laughing now, either.

-30-


	2. Dean

_**A/N:**_ Joker!Dean and Antichrist!Sam. Fair warning: This second chapter is just as twisted as the first one. Don't know why. My meds are working. At least, I think they are. This is the second and final part of this one shot. I felt we needed Dean's POV, so here it is.

_**POV:**_ Dean

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Supernatural or The Dark Knight. This is all in fun, not for profit, and no disrespect to Heath Ledger is intended.

* * *

Everybody leaves me.

_Everybody._

So why shouldn't they leave with a smile on their faces? Why does everything have to be so fucking serious?

If I can make just one person laugh, I mean _really_ laugh, and get 'em to die like that, well, that's _something_, isn't it?

Learned some things when I was down south. Learned my place in this life. Y'see, I don't struggle against myself anymore. Waste of time. There's no point to it. I got a hard head about some things. Dad knew it. So did Sam. Took me forty years in hell to finally come around.

Before that I kept my end of the deal. Wasn't gonna welsh on it, well not until the end, anyway. Didn't work out.

Glad it didn't. I died. I got better.

* * *

First time I saw Sam topside again I was having a bad day. Everybody had these sour, serious looks on their faces. Nothing worked, y'know? Finally had to break out my knives and start carving smiles and that's no damn good. I like to see people having a good time without me givin' them a little nudge in that direction.

While my guys disposed of the bodies I decided to take Sammy and John-boy for a walk. There's a dog park nearby.

Sammy? He's hairier than two legged Sam and his table manners are better. Sammy's almost dainty when he eats. I could sit and watch him for hours. Getting used to all that slobber he flings around was a bitch. Other than that I was fine.

John-boy? I like the way he looks at me. He doesn't judge, y'know? Just sits there with this goofy grin on his ugly mug all the damn time.

I like a hell hyena like that.

We were on our way out the door when Harley comes over and drapes her body over my shoulders like a damn raincoat or somethin'.

"You want me to come _with_, Mister J?"

"Nah." I shrug her off, and I'm not too freakin' gentle about it, either. She nearly face plants into the floor. The boys giggle and Harley gives them a dirty look. "You just stay as sweet as you are and stay here 'til I get back," I drawl. I peck her on the cheek and she gives me this big fake smile.

She doesn't like it but there's nothing she can do about it, unless she wants to blow her cover. Thinks I don't know who she really is, but I do. I've seen the way her face shifts, the way her eyes go white when she thinks I'm not looking.

'm not as dumb as Lillith thinks I am.

* * *

Dog park's crowded this time of day. That's good. Killed two birds with one stone. My boys get some exercise while they run down their food. I don't have to feed 'em when we get back. _Sweet._

I get this tingle at the back of my skull while I'm playin' with 'em. "Here boy, here Sammy, go fetch the stick, boy, fetch the stick!"

"Dean…that's a human arm bone," Sam says from behind me, and I start grinning at the sound of his voice.

"Oh. Yeah, it is, isn't it?" I stare deadpan at the bone in my hand like I've never seen one before.

I've seen plenty.

"Huh." I scratch the side of my head with it as I turn around to look at Sam. Yeah, I'm glad to see the kid, but there's no sense in gettin' all emo about it. He looks like he wants to hurl.

Kid looks good. He's been taking care of himself while I was away. The air around him seems different, like he's giving off some kinda electric current. If I squint I can see it, all yellow haze in the air around him.

There's this brunette in jeans and a black leather jacket standing next to him. I know who's inside, but I play dumb.

"Who's the skank, bro'?"

"Ruby."

"Oh. Same bitch, different packaging, huh?" She rolls her eyes as she looks at me and it's hate at first sight. All over again.

"Dean, look, I can help you," Sam says earnestly. "You don't have to live like this."

"Like what, Sam?" He stares at me like he can't believe what I'm saying, or how I look. Doesn't bother me. I just wish the kid wasn't so fucking serious. I get a headache sometimes when people are too damn serious.

I'm getting one now.

"I'm just a clown, Sammy. That's all I ever was. That's all you ever saw in me. Dad, too. Only one who ever really saw past all that was Mom, and look where she ended up."

I don't like all this serious crap.

John-boy's staring at me with his head cocked to one side, all confused, and I remember why I came out in the first place. I throw the arm bone long and high and Sammy and John-boy take off running after it.

Sam stands there with his mouth open.

"Sam?"

"Uh…huh?"

"You plan on catchin' flies with that mouth, dude?"

Sam's mouth snaps shut.

"I know I'm not as smart as you are. I try to make up for that."

"Dean, I can help you," the kid says again, and that's_ it_. I don't wanna hear any more.

New Ruby stands there with her arms crossed. "Don't waste any more time with him, Sam." I sure in the hell don't like that smirk on her face. "Dean's a lost cause, now more than ever. You couldn't see it before. It's as plain as the nose on your face now."

Sam snarls at her. "Shut the hell up, Ruby."

Sammy and John-boy finally stop their tug of war over the arm bone. John boy won. Sammy's got his consolation prize in his mouth, a human thigh bone with some meat still on it. Sammy and John-boy stand at the entrance of the dog park, ears pricked, those stumpy tails of theirs wagging. They're waiting for me.

It's time to go. Cops are four minutes out. I can feel it in the air.

I step over the remains of this black and white Great Dane and its owner. She was a bossy yuppie bitch, I think that's her thigh bone Sammy has in his mouth. She was the first one to go when we walked into the park.

Sam makes this strangled noise deep in his throat, and I almost stop in my tracks.

I said_ almost_.

"Well. Don't think this hasn't been a little slice of heaven. It hasn't."

"Dean, please---" Out come those puppy eyes of Sam's, and I don't even flinch.

"See you around, Sam." I start walking and I don't look back.

* * *

Next time I see Sam it's in an abandoned warehouse outside of Chicago. My guys are armed to the teeth. I got Dad to thank for that. The connections and all. So where did you think we got the guns and stuff we used to hunt with, huh? It's all six degrees of separation, boys and girls.

The guys inside were hunters. Gordon Walker's group. I heard the rumors, heard about how they were hunting Sam, so me and my group shagged ass up to Chi Town. Left Harley coolin' her heels in the warehouse. She's not a happy camper, but ask me if I care.

On the way up I heard they finally caught Sam and Ruby at last. Kid's gettin' sloppy. Nailed by a bunch of people. I felt embarrassed when I heard the news.

Got really pissed off when I walked into the place.

Sam's unconscious, bruised and bloodied, tied to this large wooden chair, right in the middle of this Devil's Trap Gordie drew on the floor.

Man, the look on Gordon's face when he saw me?

Priceless.

I had to stop John-boy from ripping him to shreds. I got a better idea. Gordon needs some sunshine in his life. Well, either that or bran fiber. Can't help him with _that_, but I can help him smile.

New Ruby's spread-eagled out on the floor nearby, right on top of another Devil's Trap. I don't go near the bitch. Sam can take her with him if he wants to.

My guys hogtie Gordon and his men and drag them to our truck parked at the loading dock outside. Sammy roams around looking for other chew toys, but he stops when I give him a dirty look. Sometimes I can't think straight with all that damn laughing, you know?

I cut the last rope holding Sam in the chair. I can hear all that commotion going on in his head. He feels guilty for not being able to stop my deal. I don't know why. I'm a changed man, and I like it. Hell wasn't so bad. I went somewhere I'd never been before, met new people. Put some smiles on faces. A whole lotta faces. It's all good.

I left before Sam woke up. Still don't like that damn emo crap. Smiling's one thing. All that talk about feelings? Well, that's something I can well do without.

Gordon got happy once I got him back to my place. He was damn giddy with it.

* * *

Got my act together now. Got the right mix of chemicals. Too bad about the people in that apartment building in Cali when I ran that final test. They were happy, though. They laughed all the time, at least until they died.

That's what counts in life. Life's a joke, and folks need to realize that. It's good to go out with a smile on your face.

I'm making a list, and I'm checking it twice. Too much seriousness in the world right now. Too many sour faces. The Batman, for one. Dude needs a cruise, a massage or maybe just a new outlook on life.

Or a smile on that sour mug of his. Yeah. I can see _that_.

New Ruby is another one that needs a freaking attitude adjustment. Aw hell, who am I kidding? I'm just going to gank the scuzzy bitch and be done with it, send her right back down to hell where she belongs.

I know a trick or two. Sam doesn't need her. He can do better.

And I'm gonna do what I can to lighten the mood around here.

-30-

* * *

A/N: "Well. Don't think this hasn't been a little slice of heaven. It hasn't." – quote stolen, I mean taken from Bugs Bunny. Don't ask me what cartoon. I got nothing.


End file.
